WELCOME ..Welcome to a series of poems / articles where some point to sage teachings.The awareness of embodied mind as mistaken identity. The realisation of the one true self, (Non duality ) unborn and beyond the dormancy of spirit in time and space. Faced with the infinite and eternal said Goethe, the most that man can achieve is wonder.

Thank you for your visit ..Roy

TIME

Time drips like that strippedmaple on to a timeless pool,my mind beneath the surfacetension, feels the break andsees the droplet, make thatripple to infinity, the anchoredrocks show how watermoves as spirit, flowing roundas if to mime the unreality oftime, to mesmerise, to see it,the solid dross, a worldmaterial, verifying schism,the light and heavy lossof mind from organism,alas, I say, alas,our brains are killing usas Krishnamurti said,For all around I see herehow nature comes to call,how growing out of timelessnessbrings time to end it all. ----------

CITY BLUES

The mole lives happy undergroundwhen stars above the city glow,but round about Trafalgar Squarethe people flock as pigeons do,as gridlocked as my city brainthat fumbles through the A to Zee,like lice I crawl a little wayand wonder if the corpse is me !Eternal hunger, airborne wistdown every cul-de-sac and lane,o geist ! I'm lost again, I saidenough to drive a man insane !That longing for a green lightwhen columns move as one spirit,to be beyond the traffic humand the welcome of that city limit !

Back into the country nowwhere the leaving felt bereft,and a journey to discovermy mind had never left.

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SPRING WOOD ( On our Way to )

Come into the wood thennow the days are long, step into the memoryof a nightingale song,feed on the ground asfrom root to stem,come talk to the bluebellswe are the heart of them,come prize the cuckoowho measures our yearsaway from the noise ofungrounded fears,come see at a glancewhat the great poet said,' let the stillness be the dance 'let it sing in your head,' let the darkness be the light 'as within so without,come gaze at the stars'til the owl cries out,where the down-trodden vixenscreams her reply,stay away from my cubs-your world is a lie !Lets be like a hermithis body a hutand spy on the squirrelwho buries his nut,lets hawk and hoverwith masterful eye,be the vole for tomorrownot food for the sky;lets look at the moonshe has something to say,lets decipher her runeand be on our way?

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A QUIET MIND

Is it safe to saythought has it's limits?Beauty, adored as the wholeis lost by seeking the partas the seeking brain does,but the quiet mindafter the rain has fallento quench the thirstof the flowering plain,is not deafto the voice of the violet,the trembling primrose,or blind to the wild spiritin the soft eyes of a deer,and the numb strengthto wrap round with armsan old, dying oak,the blue - print of blisson the one handthe signature of heaven,but on the other,missingthe point forever,trapped in cold factlike mummified bonesthat give off the ghoul,a blindness to depthand a voice that stuttersto all that utters to the soul;I have said it beforeand I say it again ,If one does not feel itone will not see it-a universal meaning-in the effect of a rainbow,from the ground of all being....

Comical Starlingsfeed like clownsthen into the sunfly off as one,autumn, pullson the sad stringsof a sorrowful heart,as love must part,turn green to redwhen all from dusk to dawnseemed that of wisdomand yet nothing verbalyet something said ;o the parts from the wholedo not feed the soul,

over the tonguefrom the brain in my head,come back to lifeis what nature saidand I understoodhow that was very,very good.

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COMPOSED TO DECOMPOSE ( Buddha )

Blight infiltrates the air to reach my vines,regeneration, weakens and declinesand I am left with an image of a globe'curled up like an autumn leaf'and an old man, chasing a thiefwho stole my ability to love my body;'you are the universe, your worldis your body' said the grey,enlightened sage, don't take my wordfor it, look at it, it surely beginsto hang like that blighted rose in your garden?And what do you expect or supposewhen all composed must decompose?A long sabbatical from heaven-knows wherewill quite naturally, come to it's end,sooner rather than later, if mandoes not learn to love his bodywhich is the world he lives in.

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JUST LOOK

Look backinto the past tense-let stars see their magnificence,concatenationstell the story,they gave man eyesto see their glory,

break through the blueoblivious skies,wonder how they prizeyour brain, your eyes,one's worldy self -that ego - hoax,looks through a veilof locked up tearsbound round with thoughtin vault-like fears;while inward and invisiblenothing reigns of ' me ' ,' I ' am-ness wears the crownit has no boundary ;that kaleidoscope of starssuch art, so masterful,effect, far greaterthan it's cause, so pauseand look as ' now '-don't think but feelwhat you may see,their light is spentto find the art in mewhich means the artin me and you.

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PRODIGAL CYCLE

He followed the cart - wheelsfrom the ruts of an old trackuntil he saw an old sign saying,' faith is this way, flesh is that',yet with one eye, looking fora hill with a high beacontugging at his heart-felt truthhe also felt so divested, and leftalas, his flesh behind for spirit,left too the patient burning stars,embodied by a burning sun,the tired, endless journey ofthe earth, the sun and moon,the whole panoply of man,of time weighed down upon him;

faint music caught his hearingon a breeze and drew him closerto find a care-free, ghostly carousel,as then , to see his true embodimentas subtle and refined, as beautiful as theywho waved with such heart- felt recognition,and what could one begin to saywhen all was light as thistle-down in May;

what he had found is always 'now'and what is 'now' is always what it isand it was his,my friend, and it was his,not with a future or a past, the very first,the very last, with no below and no abovethe vast vitality of life, the very womb of love;

him onward then, effortlessly onwardalong a blissful avenue of fading regretand yet, what he saw he had become-a kind of nameless Greek-like temple,where all inside gave simple understanding,though coming out,forgetting what he knewwas not the first of deja vu when falling,falling, falling to an earthly memory,down on down through oblivious skiesto gestate in another kind of womb,as once again, knowing absolutelynothing, to barely see a world afreshthrough dim and distant, infant eyes.

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THE GREAT UNSUSTAINABLE ( IN )

I contemplate when drinking teahow tannin sticks and stains the cup,does life have meaning anymorewhen up is down and down is up,as thought constructs it's rigid worldgive weightlessness a moment's pause,would looking in as stars shine outincline man to attend his cause?Is this his never ending cruxthrough all the cost he must surviveimposing fixity on fluxin order to arrive?For brain is worshipped by the brainthough quiet stillness nurtures mind,when all that chatter in the skullensures the failure of mankind,for trapped inside a thinking loopwith such bright add-ons now and then,as history repeats itselfto catch and bring him back again,the walls are high around his brain.

Mystery, the food of mindmust touch the infinite and mendman broken on his turning worldhis still point now he must attend.And still I contemplate with teahow tannin sticks and stains my cup,does life have meaning anymorewhen up is down and down is upand where again do I beginwhen inside out is outside in

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THE DANCE OF ONE

Through neural wires I touch the groundfrom feet to knees unto a brainthough I am abstract there as mindthe very ground of that domain.I whirl and dance and lose my bliss,find ' hide and seek ' a way to play,eternity is what I amand time to me is what I say;though thought is always my domainthey crowd to make me nought-I cannot die to lose myselffrom that which I have thought,the more I hear the more absurdmy thoughts would make of me,and when I wake up from this trancedisrupt the rythmn of my danceI'll live to dream again and findanother way, to dance another day.

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TO KNOW

Behind the eyelid of your eyespread out, like mare - tails in the sky,at altitude, reach round her girthand you will be the soul of earth,beatitude will then imbuethe still point of the world in you;when there is only one, make haste -it's taste is all you need to taste,'the sound of one hand clapping' 'now 'is all you ever need to hear,is all you ever need, to know.

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ASLEEP(Contrary to what is understood)

If all the world we seeis limited to human sense,and we must always move to beoutside the present tense,as if in vorticesforever spiralling arounduntil we are the eye withinthe stillness of the ground,enlightenment would then be this,so like a world asleep, to seemawakened from the deepest dream